Maxine

by SUE FINEMAN

  “Figures,” Nick muttered as he pushed the stairwell door open.

  The rooms looked worse than the lobby, and they smelled of mold and smoke and sex.

  Cara said, “We could fix it up a little and use it for a homeless shelter, couldn’t we?”

  “For adults, maybe. I sure as hell wouldn’t send families to this part of town, not with the porn shops and strip joints on this street. I suppose you could donate it to the mission down the street, but whatever you do, you’re going to lose a lot of money. Solomon was betting on the developer, and he lost the bet.”

  “Can we sell it?”

  “Not for half what you paid for it.” His eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkled. “We could turn it into a brothel. Put in red flocked wallpaper and—”

  “Nick!” She punched his arm and laughed.

  Nick looked up at the smoke alarm in the hallway. It hung open, the battery gone. “This place is a fire trap and the room rents aren’t enough to pay the upkeep. I say shut it down.”

  “Okay. Can you send a crew in to repair the elevator and fix it up a little, so we can use it for a shelter?”

  “Yeah, sure, but you don’t want to run it yourself. If you donate it to the Salvation Army or the mission, you could take it as a tax write-off.”

  “Yes, we’ll do that, but I want it fixed up a little first. Replace the furniture, new flooring, paint, and whatever. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but this...” She kicked at the worn, filthy brown carpet. “This has to go.”

  Nick always knew Cara had a big heart. Here she was, losing money already, but she wanted to make it nicer for the people who would stay here. It wasn’t much money to her, but he didn’t know anybody else, rich or not, who would go to this much trouble for a bunch of people she’d never met.

  RASH would break even or gain a little on the apartments and on the office buildings, but not on this. And not on those white elephant condos.

  “Nick, on the apartment complex, why don’t we save two or three of those apartments for temporary homeless shelters for families?”

  “You’re not going to sell the apartments?”

  “I think both of us have too much invested in those apartments to sell them.”

  He gazed into her eyes and knew what she meant. It was an emotional investment, a project that meant something to them both, an experiment in helping people rise above the poverty level. Mary Margaret was already planning classes in parenting and basic adult education and job skills, and Cara planned to furnish the community rooms with toys and books. Nick gave her a hug and kiss before they walked down to the lobby. He loved her generous, compassionate spirit.

  Nick tossed the room keys to the clerk. “This place is closed as of the end of next week. Everybody is to be out by next Friday.”

  “All rooms are free until the hotel is closed,” said Cara. “And would you please replace the batteries in those smoke alarms upstairs?”

  “The drunks and their cigarettes keep setting them off.”

  “Tough,” said Nick. “Replace them today. This is now a no-smoking building. That includes you.” Nick started out the door and turned back. “Oh, if there’s anyone around who wants to work, have them here in the lobby at the end of next week. Friday morning. I want strong people who aren’t afraid of hard work. No drunks or junkies. Ten bucks an hour paid at the end of the day. Cash.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now all I have to do is find someone to fix the elevator and line up a couple trucks to haul the junk away,” he said to Cara on the way out the door. He’d need to buy tools and a few pairs of work gloves.

  They sat in the car and Cara gave the driver the address of the blue house.

  “The one we drove by before?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s the one. This time we’ll stop and go inside.... Maybe.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Nick. “I don’t have a key to that place. The others had keys in the files, but not that one.”

  As they pulled up and stopped on the steep street, Nick knew why there was no key in the file. A brief glance at the woman standing in the front window told him Cara’s guardians were living here. Holcomb probably told them they could live here until they found another place, but that was nearly eight weeks ago. What in the hell were they still doing here? Holcomb paid these people enough that they should have plenty of money put aside to support themselves.

  He glanced at Cara. “Did you see her?”

  “Yes, I saw. I still want to inspect the property, if they’ll let us in.”

  “If they don’t, we’ll go buy an axe and break the damn door down.”

  They walked up the crumbling concrete steps to the front door. As Nick raised his fist to knock, the door swung open and Ian Corinth stood there, glaring at them.

  Nick said, “We’ve come to inspect our property.”

  “Your property?”

  Cara lifted her chin. “This property belongs to the RASH Corporation, and Nick runs the corporation.”

  Nick propped his hands on his hips and stared at Ian. “So are you gonna let us in, or do I go buy an axe?”

  Ian opened the door and walked into the house. Nick heard the back door slam and then Jane came into the room. “What do you want?”

  “Why aren’t you paying rent?” asked Nick.

  Ian crossed his arms. “Ron said he would supply a place for us to live, since Cara cut us off without retirement.”

  Nick glanced at Cara, who was biting her lip so hard it must hurt, and turned back to Ian. “Ron doesn’t own the house and he had no right to promise you anything. I expect the prosecutor to file charges against him any day now.”

  Jane’s mouth dropped open. “For what?”

  “He and his friends set up a dummy corporation so they could steal from the estate,” said Cara. “This house is part of that corporation. If you want to buy it, I’ll sell it to you for fair market value. Otherwise, you’ll have to move so we can sell it and recoup some of the losses.”

  “What do you care?” Jane said with a sneer. “You have more money than God.”

  “You should have a little stash of your own,” said Nick. “Holcomb was paying you enough.”

  “It’s invested,” said Ian. “We can’t touch it for another two years.”

  As Nick looked around the room, he said, “I sure as hell hope you didn’t give it to Jasper Solomon. If you did, it’s long gone.”

  Jane’s face turned so pale, Nick thought she’d pass out. And he knew they’d given their money to Ron’s friend. They’d lived in luxury in Cara’s house, and now they were going to experience the other side of life. The way they’d treated Cara, they didn’t deserve any better.

  Without another word, Cara and Nick examined the house. Upstairs, he pointed to clothes and shaving gear in the back bedroom and bathroom. Someone else was staying here, but whoever it was, he wasn’t there at the time. Were they hiding Cara’s fugitive husband? If they were, they were even dumber than they looked.

  Downstairs, Nick said, “Looks to me like the house just needs cosmetics—fresh paint, a new front door, new steps out front.” He motioned to Ian with his head. “Anything wrong here that you know of?”

  “It’s disgusting,” said Jane. “The carpet is old and smelly and—”

  Nick said, “I mean does the plumbing work? Furnace? Rodents or bugs?”

  “Rodents?” Jane turned up her nose.

  “You have two weeks to move out,” said Cara. “In two weeks, we’re sending a crew in to work on the house and then we’re putting it up for sale.” Without another word, she walked out the door.

  “Leave your keys at the Andrews offices,” said Nick, as he followed Cara out the front door.

  In the car, Cara said, “If those people had treated me better, I would have given them a house.”

  “If they were renters, you’d have to go through the eviction process, but according to the records, they weren’t renting.”

  Cara sighed. “I didn’t t
hink of that. I’ll check with Gerry.”

  <>

  Lance sat in Jane’s car around the corner and angled the mirror so he could see Cara’s car. As soon as it pulled away from the curb, he ducked down where they couldn’t see him. When they were out of sight, Lance returned to the house to find Ian sputtering and Jane in tears.

  “We have to move,” Jane said, sobbing. “We have no money and nowhere to go, but that rich little bitch is throwing us out again.”

  He couldn’t figure out why they didn’t have money, since they’d been making a bundle while they lived at the estate. They had very little in the way of expenses when they lived with Cara, yet they claimed they didn’t have any money. Strange. But the only thing that mattered to Lance was that he’d have to leave. It was time to move on anyway.

  While Jane was busy crying on Ian’s shoulder, Lance took a couple hundred from her purse. He needed it more than they did. According to the newspaper, the court date for the divorce was coming up soon, and he had to stop it. To do that, he had to go back to Washington and meet with his attorney. The attorney had gotten one extension and if he expected to be paid for his services, he could get another one.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Al flew down to work with the new architect on the renovation plans for the apartments. It was his second trip to work on the project, and the architect was about to finalize the plans Al had given him. Crews were already at work on two of the four buildings, ripping out damaged walls and bad plumbing.

  Nick hoped the apartment complex and the programs they put in place there would become a model community that other owners of low-cost apartments would want to emulate.

  He reviewed the engineering report on Cara’s property in Gig Harbor. The hillside was thick with trees and brush, and it wasn’t very steep. It was the underlying soil that concerned him. Would it split or slide? Would Cara be safe there? He didn’t want her hurt again.

  Putting his preliminary sketches and floor plans of Cara’s house on the table in the sun room, Al said, “I’m not exactly sure what she wants, except she wants the house to step down the hill, with a guard tower on the top level.”

  “Tower? Did she say tower?” asked Nick.

  “No, but that’s the way I designed it.”

  Nick pulled the drawing around to see it better.

  “The garage and top level of the house is below road grade, but the property is wide enough for a gently sloping driveway. The peak of the garage roof will be about three feet above the road, with the guard tower on the left and the garage on the right, for balance. I made the tower tall enough to see over the road and the house.”

  Nick smiled. “It looks like a lighthouse.”

  One side of Al’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Except instead of a light at the top, it’ll be equipped with security monitors and one-way glass.”

  “So nobody will know when the guard is up there. That’s good.”

  “We’ll have to work with her security people on the final plan. They may not approve.”

  “She’s gonna love it, Al.”

  Cara walked into the room. “Love what?”

  “The plans for your new house.” Nick motioned with his head. “Come look.”

  Al showed her the sketch of how the finished house would look from the road and the one showing the house from the water.

  “I love lighthouses, and it’s a clever way to design a guard tower,” she said with a smile. “Show me the rest.”

  Al pointed as he talked. “I put your study and a sitting room with a big window seat, a fireplace, and a snack kitchen on the entry level. Each level steps out and down the hill, but the windows will look over the roof of the lower portions of the house, so you’ll almost always have a view of the water. I put four bedrooms on the middle level, and the living room, dining room, and kitchen are on the bottom level.” He glanced at Cara. “I know you have too many bedrooms to count in this house, but—”

  “I don’t want another house like this, Al. Four bedrooms is plenty.”

  Cara rested her hand on Nick’s shoulder and watched the interaction between him and his cousin. At only nineteen, Al was quite talented. It was evident in this plan and in the work he’d done on the apartment complex. Talent like this begged to be developed. Would he let her send him to college to study architecture? Asking him to work for Max and Company for the same number of years he went to school to pay back the investment would be one way to do it without bruising that tender Donatelli pride.

  “I wasn’t sure where to put a sun room,” said Al.

  “Here.” Nick pointed to the kitchen and dining area. “Wrap it around the dining room and kitchen, maybe ten or twelve feet wide.”

  “Won’t that obscure the view of the water from the dining room?”

  Nick glanced over his shoulder at Cara. “She’ll eat in the sun room anyway.”

  She nodded.

  “Switch the bedrooms around so the master is on the same side as the sun room.” Nick pointed at the plan. “Put a spiral staircase from the end of the sun room to the master bedroom or bathroom and plumb for a spa out here.” Nick pointed to the outside corner of the sun room. “Bump the wall out if you have to.”

  “What if we make that corner the same shape as the lighthouse guard tower, only shorter and fatter? It would look awesome from the water.”

  “Yes, it would,” said Cara. “The plan is great, Al, better than I’d dreamed it could be. I love the elevator from the main level to the kitchen. It’s perfect for bringing in groceries. And outside, we’ll have a landscape architect blend the house into the site.”

  Al’s eyebrows rose. “My brother Vinnie has a landscape business in Tacoma.”

  Cara laughed. “Sure, why not?” This would be a Donatelli project from start to finish.

  <>

  Al helped Nick with the work party at the hotel. He supervised some of the workers, showing them how to pull the carpet out without snagging their fingers on the tack strips. Nick felt proud of his youngest cousin. He’d always been the quiet one, but he often took on more responsibility than the others.

  In a few hours, the hotel had been stripped of the old furniture and carpet. It was a good start. A plumber would come next week, then they’d patch the walls and paint. Some of the workers today offered to help with the other work, and Nick thought it was an excellent idea. All some of these people needed was a job, encouragement, and respect.

  <>

  After Nick and Cara made love that night, he told her he had to leave for awhile, but he’d come back in an instant if she needed him.

  “I’ll always need you, Nick. Why don’t you stay?”

  “I can’t, honey. I have things to do.” Nick had stayed in California long enough. He’d been shot at the end of April, and it was nearly July. It was time to go home and take care of business there.

  He couldn’t make plans for the future until Lance was dead or behind bars. Since the authorities couldn’t seem to do the job, he’d have to do it himself. If he went back to Gig Harbor, maybe he could lure Lance there, away from Cara.

  Nick refused to take any pay for the work he’d done with RASH, so Cara decided to pay him another way. She put the money he’d earned into the Max and Company account and had Gerry transfer the company to Nick’s name.

  Cara told Nick what she’d done. “Max and Company belongs to you, Nick. It’s payment for the work you did for me on RASH. The company and all its assets are yours, including the boat.”

  “I can’t take Max and Company, Cara. I was just helping a friend.”

  “It’s a done deal. The company belongs to you.”

  <>

  Nick packed his things to return to Gig Harbor. Over the past eight weeks, he’d gained strength and grown more determined to do something about Lance. Cara insisted he take her plane back to Gig Harbor, and he agreed, only because he didn’t want to fight the reporters and stares at the airport.

  Cara walked out to the airstrip with
Nick, where they said a tearful goodbye. She cried. “I’ll come with you, Nick.”

  He shook his head. “Not this time, Cara.” He didn’t want her there when Lance came. And he would come.

  Walking away from Cara and listening to her cry tore at his heart. It was temporary, he told himself. They’d be together again soon. If she still wanted him by then.

  As the plane lifted into the air and circled around to begin the flight north, he looked down to see Cara standing beside the airstrip, waving. Her curly hair blew around her face in the breeze, and he felt like he was leaving a big part of himself behind.

  Tony picked him up at the airport in Gig Harbor and drove him to a gun shop in Tacoma so Nick could buy a small handgun. The only way to be free to build a future with Cara was to eliminate the danger, the killer she married. If the authorities wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of Michael Lance, Nick might have to do it himself. He would not allow the man to shoot at him or Cara again.

  Next time, he intended to shoot back.

  <>

  That evening, Nick hosed down the deck and dock, and caught a flash from the hill above the beach. A man with a camera stood at the top of the steps, snapping pictures of him. Infuriated with the lack of privacy, Nick walked up the steps to face the photographer. The man’s camera clicked constantly as Nick approached him. The guy was short and fat and skuzzy looking, with greasy hair, food dripped on his shirt, and at least a two-day growth of beard.

  The man finally lowered his camera. “Are you finished?” asked Nick.

  The man stepped back. Nick grabbed the camera and smashed it on the ground.

  “Hey, that camera cost a bundle.”

  “If I ever see you hanging around here again, I’ll do the same thing to your head.” Nick leaned in close. “You got that, sleazeball?”

  The man jumped in his car and sped away. Nick ground his heel into the broken camera and walked back to the boat. The last thing he needed was a photographer hanging around when Lance showed up.

  <>